Take Nothing for Granted
by last1stnding
Summary: It started out as an ordinary, rather boring night until everything changed suddenly. What had been a routine stakeout turned into life or death with one random shooter and a bad fall.
1. Chapter 1

Neal Caffrey vaulted over the rusted iron divider with ease, hard on the heels of the stock broker's bodyguard who ran ahead. The bodyguard had stumbled slightly in the darkness and Neal was closing the distance when he caught sight of a gun in the guy's hand. Skidding to a sliding halt behind a dumpster he heard the gun fire, unnaturally loud in the alley between two brick buildings. The bullet stung the dumpster in front of him. Neal ventured another look; the guy was up and running. He started to give chase but was rewarded with the welcome sight of Clinton Jones at the end of the alley, gun raised and yelling, "FBI! Gun down, now!"

The perp immediately saw he couldn't outdraw a trained FBI agent and stopped, throwing down his weapon. Neal smiled and turned around. No one behind him. No one at all. He frowned and then went back, looking over the divider.

He smiled when he saw Peter Burke lying on the other side; evidently Peter didn't make the jump over the top. This would be good for some jokes in the near future. "Hey, Peter, what happened?"

Neal didn't really get a coherent response, just some garbled noise that could have been cursing or groaning. He went back over the top, taking care not to land on Peter.

Even in the shadowed darkness of the alley, Neal could see Peter's eyes were open. "Guys your age gotta watch these obstacles," Neal teased, not resisting the temptation. One of Peter's legs sprawled out in an unnatural angle and Neal bent down to gently move it back in line.

Once he picked up the leg he noticed a wet stickiness and that dark glistening on Peter's pant leg registered. Blood. Quite a lot of it too. Suddenly, Neal remembered. The gunshot. Two gunshots perhaps? It was way too loud for one.

"Peter! What happened? Who shot you?"

Even in the weak, watery light of the moon and distant streetlights, Neal could see Peter's eyes looked really weird, out of focus. Peter flailed an arm toward the darkness. "Some guy," he croaked.

Neal suddenly felt vulnerable; unnoticed before, there was a shadowy recess in the building. He and Peter were wide open here. Neal turned quickly but there didn't seem to be anybody there.

He could hear Jones and Diana yelling irritably in the distance. Sucking in his breath, Neal approached the darkened area.

A figure brushed by Neal, shoving him aside in a furious dash for freedom. Running footsteps took off down the alley, in the direction Peter and Neal had come in from. Neal yelled. "Jones! Diana! Back to the van; we've got a shooter escaping!"

He heard their yells of acknowledgment and he saw the figure approach the street. The street light however, was not his ally; Neal heard Diana's voice, saw the guy raise his gun and then there was gunfire. Suddenly the guy was down. Diana Berrigan stepped forward, kicked the gun away and put her foot on the guy's chest, holding him down.

Neal turned back to Peter, who was moving around in a jerky, disjointed fashion. "Hey, take it easy, partner," Neal said, trying to project soothing tones. "Jones and Diana got both of them."

Jones yelled, "Caffrey, what's wrong? Where's Peter?"

Neal stood up. "Peter's down! Get an ambulance here right away!"

Jones, at the other of the alley, shoved his prisoner in front of him and Neal heard him speak on the radio. Glancing in the other direction, Neal saw Diana had gotten the cuffs on her prisoner and had him up against the van they'd all sat in for so many hours watching and listening.

Neal knelt down to Peter, who was still trying to thrash around. "Peter, stop it! Quit moving around. Everything's OK and everyone's all right." _Except you._

Peter, as usual, didn't seem to be listening and actually tried to get up. Neal, not caring about his suit or Peter's in the filth of the alley, easily pushed him back down. "Peter, what's wrong? Are you hit somewhere else?

Peter didn't seem to be able to see Neal; his eyes roamed around but focused on nothing. "My head. Hit it hard. Hurts."

"OK, OK." Neal felt better; he had something to work with now. He ran his hands around Peter's head and found a bump on the back of it. Buried in the debris on the ground was a rusted iron bar with a flat raised edge. This had to be what Peter hit when his leg was shot out from under him. "Wow, you did hit it pretty hard, buddy. But there's no blood. Just relax; help's on the way."

"Can't. My gun. Lost it." Peter was still twitching around.

Neal was exasperated. "Look, just stay quiet. I'll get your gun. Promise me you'll stay there."

Peter didn't acknowledge and if the situation hadn't been so serious, Neal might have used Peter's own handcuffs on him. Still keeping an eye on Peter, Neal stood up and looked around. After a few moments, some light glinted off the gun barrel and Neal picked the up gun, brushing off some debris.

"Here. Relax now; I have it." He held it up in front of Peter.

Peter must have seen it because he finally quit trying to move around. "Good. Good."

They heard sirens getting closer. "The cavalry here's, Peter. Don't worry about anything. Jones and Diana have the suspects and you're going to be taken care of." Neal suddenly remembered something. "Look, I know Elizabeth's out of town but I'll call her right away and then you can talk to her when they get you cleaned up, all right?"

"No."

Neal sighed in annoyance. "What do you mean, no?"

"She worked hard. Really hard. Tonight is the big party. Call her tomorrow."

Neal was perplexed. "Peter, she's going to want to know about this. I don't want to face her when she finds out no one called her right away."

Peter gripped his arm. "Don't spoil it for her. All she's talked about for a month." His eyes still wandering around, he added, "I have to take care of Satch."

Neal heard footsteps approaching but didn't look up. "I'll get Satchmo, don't worry." He paused. "Look, you and Elizabeth didn't have a fight, did you?"

"No." Peter suddenly started moving, limbs flailing out in all directions. Neal grabbed his friend tightly, hanging on for dear life.

The ambulance guys came on a run. After some quick exams, they muttered words like head injury and convulsions. Neal was moved out of the way by Clinton Jones, who stood there with the same petrified look Neal had.

They milled around the hospital waiting room, feeling useless and in the way. Neal Caffrey felt conflicted. He still hadn't called Elizabeth. Reese Hughes showed up at the hospital, talked with the nurse and made the decision to wait. Neal wasn't sure if that decision was for him as well but for now, he went along. Peter had been adamant. But Peter had also cracked his head against some iron bar in a dirty alley. He was hardly thinking straight, let alone talking sense. But Hughes decided to wait to hear what the doctors said, so Neal stewed in worry and indecision.

Jones had booked his prisoner. Neal had ridden with Diana, whose prisoner was in the operating room now. No one felt any remorse for him though, least of all her. He would recover. She paced the waiting room like a caged tigress. Neal knew she must be thinking of the time she'd lost Charlie, her childhood bodyguard. And praying lightning wouldn't strike twice.

At last the doctor came out.

"You're here for Agent Burke?"

Neal, Jones, Diana rose and stood beside Hughes. "We are," Hughes replied. "I'm Reese Hughes, Agent Burke's immediate superior."

The doctor, a young, harried type, barely acknowledged the introduction. "I'm Doctor Wilson. Agent Burke's gunshot wound is not too serious; the bullet went through. There is some tissue damage, of course, but he should recover barring any infection. I understand he was shot in an alley, so naturally we have him on very strong antibiotics."

"What about his head injury?" Hughes asked brusquely.

For the first time, Wilson's attitude seemed a bit more compassionate. "We just did a CT scan. Agent Burke has a brain contusion; a brain bruise for lack of a better term. The scan showed a small amount of blood at the impact area but I think we can handle this with drugs rather than an operation. There isn't a skull fracture, which certainly helps. Right now, I have him on a ventilator in ICU, under constant monitoring. If the situation should worsen, we will have to operate."

They all stood still, digesting the news. Finally Hughes said, "I need to call Agent Burke's wife. Is there anything else I can tell her?"

Wilson pursed his lips. "If they're religious, say a prayer. Agent Burke might come out of this with just a bump and a very bad headache. If not…. Right now he is in a light coma."

Neal Caffrey felt ill. Glancing around, he saw stoicism on Jones and Hughes' faces, sadness on Diana.

_This isn't happening. This can't happen. This started out to be an ordinary night. A little while ago they had all sat in the van and groused about the boredom. How could it turn into life or death? _Neal couldn't wrap his head around the change. Soon, he would wake up and this would be a very bad nightmare. It just had to be.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Things I should have done on Chapter 1 and forgot:**_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing, of course. Thanks for the generosity of Jeff Eastin and USA, I'm merely borrowing.**_

_**Special thanks to Wondo, whose invaluable help and advice in posting made this possible**_

_**Thank you everyone for the story alerts and special thanks to those of you who took time to review. It is much appreciated.**_

xxx

Elizabeth Burke was exhausted but extremely pleased. This museum showing was the first for Burke Premiere Events in Philadelphia and everything had gone very well. Even the balky caterer had come through. She accepted the congratulations of the museum director and several members of the board with smiling thanks. Oddly enough, at the height of her biggest triumph, she really only wanted to talk to her husband, who would pretend not to understand any of it, but still be supportive. She smiled, thinking of him. Wondering what he and Neal had gotten up to in her absence. They would either be immersed in a case or fighting amongst themselves, she was sure.

After being congratulated by a matron with silver hair and a silver ensemble, Elizabeth saw her assistant, Yolanda, coming toward her with a cell phone in hand. El smiled; she just knew it would be Peter. She sobered however, when she saw the look on Yolanda's face. "It's a Mr. Hughes of the FBI," Yolanda said quietly, holding out the phone Elizabeth recognized as her own. She'd left it with Yolanda for the evening festivities.

Despite feeling a chill slam into her, Elizabeth kept her voice level. "Reese?"

"Elizabeth." There was a pause that made her very anxious. "I'm sorry to call you like this. During an operation tonight, Peter was injured. He was shot in the leg."

In the leg? All right, maybe not too bad. Well, maybe it was. "How bad is it?"

"The leg is not all that bad. Through and through."

_Dammit, was she going to have conduct her own investigation_? "Just tell me, Reese."

"He hit his head when he fell, Elizabeth. Hard. There have been complications. The doctors tell me he's in a light coma right now."

The world tilted sideways and she was vaguely aware of Yolanda's distressed look and the inquiring faces of the museum bigwigs looking on. "Oh my God! When did this happen?"

"About three hours ago."

"Three hours ago!" Elizabeth shouted. Heads turned toward her but she didn't care. "Why didn't anyone call me?" _Where the hell was Neal?_

"Caffrey mentioned something about Peter not wanting to call you at all tonight. It seems you have a big event going?"

"**This** does not mean more to me than my husband!" Elizabeth hissed.

"Look, Elizabeth, it was my call to wait. We've been waiting on the doctors since Peter was brought in. We still don't know much. I really thought we would have more information by now."

She was stung but Elizabeth had to admit the logic of it. "Reese, I'm going to make some travel arrangements. I'll call you as soon as I find out the fastest way back to New York. Where is Peter?"

"He's at NYU Downtown hospital. Let me know what you find out. I'll have somebody there to pick you up."

_**WC WC **_

Neal Caffrey had used every weapon in his arsenal to get into Peter's hospital room. Charm, desperation, even pity. Whatever it took. Finally they relented and let him and Diana in for just five minutes.

They entered the room with the only noise being the machinery that was connected to Peter. He didn't look like himself; he was smaller somehow and fragile. Peter Burke was not there; only someone who looked a bit like him.

Diana had stiffened into immobility. Neal touched her elbow and she gathered her courage and came on in. They stood over the figure in the bed, almost hidden by machines. "I hate that damn ventilator," Diana muttered, touching Peter's arm.

"It looks like they're torturing him," Neal observed in a shaky voice.

Diana wiped her stinging eyes. "He'll get better. By morning he'll be awake again."

Neal looked at her; wondering if she really meant it or if she was just whistling in the dark. He couldn't forget the unfocused look in Peter's eyes or the horrifying convulsion that followed. He tried to talk but couldn't find his voice.

Diana turned to him. "He will recover, Neal. I know he will."

Neal swallowed. "Yeah, I know." His tone lacked conviction, even to himself.

"I'm going to let Jones come in," Diana said abruptly.

Neal supposed he should leave as well; God knew he was here but Peter didn't. But he couldn't leave his friend's side. He held Peter's hand, even tried tapping out his name but the agent didn't respond. Neal pulled up a chair and sat down, still holding Peter's hand. "I'm not leaving," he whispered to the man in the bed.

_**WC WC **_

They made him move of course. ICU, limited visiting hours, etc., etc. Clinton Jones came in, looked shaken but resolute. _Peter will be back, he said, no trace of doubt in his voice._ Neal envied his calm assurance. Neal had also put Peter's hand down while Jones was there. Force of habit; no angle in giving away more than you had to.

Hughes came in but didn't stay long. Neal knew the old guy was very fond of Peter. But evidently the sight of Peter Burke lying there didn't sit well with Hughes and he didn't stay long. Just patted Peter's shoulder and told him Elizabeth should be there by morning.

Neal was dutifully shooed out but as soon as he was allowed to, he went back in. Refused all offers of rides home, ignored the gentle veiled suggestions that this could go on for a while. Instead, Neal Caffrey stayed and waited; the hardest thing he'd ever had to do, except for one time with a plane, a ticket to freedom, a beautiful woman named Kate and a decision to be made. And a best friend who'd showed up to implore Neal to do the right thing.

_**WC WC **_

Peter Burke was floating in the darkness. It wasn't warm or inviting but neither threatening. Just there. At least it was a relief from the brutal pounding pain in his head.

He wondered what had happened. Where was Elizabeth? Then reality and recall hit and he shuddered.

Was he dead?

If so, where the hell was the bright white light that led to heaven?

Unless….

Best not go there.

Vaguely, he became aware of distant voice, softly beseeching him to wake up, to come back. Peter heard his name called over and over but he could do nothing. He couldn't see anything. But the voice was insistent, though far away. Then he heard a sob. _Neal?_

No way. No way would Neal give himself away like that. The young man was too guarded to ever let himself be vulnerable on anything other than Kate.

But there is again.

Peter edged a bit closer to the sound; Neal shouldn't let himself get that upset. Was it Kate? No wait, Kate was dead. Was this for him?

Peter decided to come back but the pain in his head struck mercilessly again and blackness descended.

_**WC WC **_

Surprising everyone, Elizabeth Burke showed up at the hospital in the middle of the night. Wearing a trench coat over her jeans and sweater, she barely paused at the nurses' station to get her husband's room number.

Entering the room quietly, she saw Neal Caffrey seated beside her husband's bed, with one of his hands in between both of Neal's. He held Peter's hand up to his forehead, as if willing his strength to his friend.

Elizabeth felt tears burn her eyes. She knew sometimes Peter doubted Neal's loyalty to him; an 'occupational hazard' as he once called it. But she knew from the first Neal would never harm Peter. Get him into trouble, yes, sometimes harass him more than was prudent but Neal was attached to Peter in ways perhaps none of them could understand. She knew that Peter cared deeply for Neal as well. Somewhere along the line Neal had become far more than rehabilitation project. Neal was the fun, sometimes annoying, younger brother. Neal had somehow become family.

Neal must have sensed her presence for he suddenly turned around. "Elizabeth?" he asked, not quite believing she was real.

Elizabeth came into the room and dropped her purse by the foot of the bed. Neal stood up and they embraced. Stepping back, Elizabeth could see tear tracks down Neal's face, something he tried to wipe away desperately. She cupped a hand to his face. "Neal, it's all right. I cried all the way here."

Moving around him, she got the first good look at her husband. _Oh Peter!_ Irreverently, she smiled. How he would hate this! Leaning over she kissed his forehead and whispered in his ear. "Peter, I'm here now. I'll be waiting for you. Please come back."

Neal had stepped back to give her some privacy. Except for the bandaging on his leg and being tied to those gruesome machines, Peter didn't look too bad. Just very tired. But she hated how frail he looked. His pallor indicated the hint of something really wrong underneath, something dark and threatening.

She carefully ran her hand through his hair but felt no abnormal lumps. She turned to Neal, questioning.

Neal cleared his throat, "He, uh, hit the back of his head." He paused, glanced at his watch. His eyes widened. "How did you get here so fast, Elizabeth?"

She took over the hand that Neal had been holding. She stroked Peter's hair and kissed his hand. Finally she sat down in exhaustion. "One of the museum directors is very wealthy. Once he heard my husband is a FBI agent and injured in a shootout, he called for his private plane." Elizabeth smiled. "You would have loved it, Neal. Very swank and fully stocked." Her voice caught. "And all I had was a glass of water."

Neal sighed, and placed his hand on Elizabeth's shoulder. "I'll be outside if you need me."

"Oh no, you don't," Elizabeth said firmly_. _"I need you right here." Never taking her eyes off Peter, she asked, "What happened, Neal?"

Neal stiffened. He knew this was coming. But how to explain the unexplainable? "We'd sat around all day and a good part of the night waiting for this guy to make his move. Finally he does but he must have made us, because after strolling out casually, he took off running when he crossed the street. I was first out of the van," Neal blushed. How many times had he been warned about taking off unarmed after a suspect by the man in the bed? Elizabeth said nothing however. "He took off down a dark alley; I followed. There was some kind of iron divider that blocked the way; the guy managed to fall over it. I jumped it." Neal cleared his throat. "I knew Peter was behind me. He got a late start out of the van because he was away from the door. But I heard him yelling to Jones. Then Jones showed up at the other end of the alley and shot the guy. It was a really loud gunshot but it was over. At least I thought so. When I turned, there was nobody behind me. I looked over the divider and saw Peter lying there." Neal bit his lip, his blue eyes anguished. "At first I thought he didn't make the jump. I teased him about it. When I got down beside him, that's when I noticed his leg."

"And how did he get shot? Who was it?" Elizabeth asked.

Neal shrugged. "Some stupid doper who was strung out and thought Peter was after his non existent stash. Good thing he had the shakes so bad he couldn't shoot straight."

"How did you get him?"

"Oh, I didn't get him. When I made a move toward where I thought someone was hiding, he took off. Diana got him at the other end of the alley." Neal's fragile composure began to erode. Leaning forward, he put a hand over his eyes. "I am so sorry, Elizabeth. I didn't know anybody was there."

Elizabeth's eyes softened as she looked upon the distraught young man. Touching his shoulder, she said quietly, "There's nothing to apologize for. You stayed with Peter even though there was an unknown shooter close by."

Neal looked up, suddenly almost indignant. "You know I would never leave him like that!"

Elizabeth smiled. "Yes, I do. But I am grateful you stayed there, Neal. I just need to say it and thank you."

Neal smiled but it was shaky and tentative. They both looked at Peter, who was still and unmoving. Elizabeth stood up and leaned over him, frustrated by the ventilator. She ended up kissing his forehead again. "Oh honey," she said sadly.

Neal did excuse himself this time and left Elizabeth to her husband. He wandered around and finally called Mozzie, just to hear a friendly voice.

Mozz, however, was not in a friendly mood. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"I thought you were never going to answer the phone," Neal replied tiredly. "Where are you, anyway?"

"I'm at Friday. What's up? I assume there is a good reason you called me at three am?"

Neal all but collapsed in a chair in an empty waiting room. "There's a reason but its not good. Peter was shot tonight. I'm at Downtown hospital."

On the phone there was a hiss of in taken breath. "How bad is the Suit?"

"It's not the bullet; he hit his head hard on a piece of iron when he fell. He's in a coma, Mozz."

"Oh man, that sucks." A pause. "You know, Neal, there has been quite a lot of research done on people in comas. They're supposed to hear some stuff, you know."

"Well, Elizabeth is here now, so if Peter will listen for anybody, it's her. Look, Mozz, I need you to go over to Peter's house and let the dog out."

"I don't have a key to the Suit's castle!"

Neal grimaced. "Oh, come on, Mozz."

"All right, all right. But if someone sees me picking the lock, you better come bail me out."

"If someone sees you it means you're getting sloppy," Neal retorted.

"Well, certain jobs need certain preparation time," Mozzie huffed.

A silence fell. Neal, a moment ago, had really wanted to talk. Now he only wanted to go back to that sterile room with the machines. "Look, Mozz, I've got to go. Thank you for Satchmo. I'll either pick him up myself later or maybe Elizabeth will go home and get some rest."

"All right. To pass the time, I guess I could do some research on how to bring people out of comas. Not my usual line of course." A pause. "Hey, tell the Suit you're going to run. That will bring him back post haste."

Neal looked sad. "I did that an hour ago."


	3. Chapter 3

When he returned to the room, Neal found Elizabeth had not moved. Still holding her husband's hand and softly talking to him, rubbing his shoulder.

There was no response from Peter however.

Elizabeth looked up. "I'm glad you're back."

Neal drew up another chair beside her and looked at Peter. He saw her watching him. "I keep hoping."

"So do I. He will come back; he knows I'll come after him if he tries to leave me," Elizabeth added, but there was more sadness and strain than strength and humor in her voice. In a soft voice, she asked the question that had bothered her since she received the call from Hughes. "Neal, what did Peter tell you about calling me? Hughes said something about he didn't want me called right away."

Neal sighed. _Some days you couldn't get away with anything._ "Look, Elizabeth," he said, "that was right after I found him. He wasn't thinking straight; he was hardly coherent."

"He was coherent enough to think it and vocalize it," she replied in a frosty voice. "And you went along with it?"

Neal had a rare look on his face; resignation and defeat. "I didn't know what to do. At first I thought maybe you guys had a fight."

"Peter wouldn't say something like that because of a fight!"

"I know, I know," Neal held up a hand. "He knew you worked hard for this event, Elizabeth. He didn't want to ruin your night; it's a simple as that. Besides, none of us knew at that time how badly he was injured. In truth, I didn't know what to do. I was going to call you from the hospital but…. he had a convulsion in that alley. I really thought he was going to die. Forgive me, but I didn't want to call you then. Afterwards, Hughes said wait for the doctors, so I caved in and waited. I was weak," Neal spat out in a voice filled with self disgust, horrified that he'd let so much slip.

Elizabeth reached over and touched his arm. "Neal, it's all right. God forbid this should happen again but if it does, I don't care what Peter or Hughes or the FBI Director says, I want to know. All right?"

Neal managed a smile. "All right."

"Good. Now, I'm going to find a restroom and wash up a little. Will you stay with him?"

"Of course," Neal replied, relieved he wasn't being interrogated anymore.

_**WC WC **_

Elizabeth washed her face; _God, she looked a mess_. She'd only taken the time to change into comfortable clothes for the trip. Trying to put herself into some semblance of order was a joke when inside she was filled with turmoil and worry. Her thoughts chased each other around in her head fruitlessly. The nurse had explained briefly that they might have to operate; she really didn't want to say more until the doctors arrived in the morning. _What was this operation they might have to do? Would he still be Peter if they cut open his head and poked around? Could he go back to the FBI? _Neither she nor Peter had been college kids when they met; they'd waited for the right person, finally met each other and married. Peter was the pillar of her world and she'd only had ten years with him. _It was so damn unfair!_ Because of some pitiful human garbage who skulked in alleys, she might lose her husband.

Elizabeth didn't want to think of what would happen to Neal if they lost Peter. Her husband was the pillar of Neal's world as well. She shuddered to think of Neal losing Peter so soon after his beloved Kate. Would it send the young man spiraling back down into desperate depression? Would he return to his former life of crime?

With a firm effort, Elizabeth reined in her frantic, exhausted thoughts. Peter would recover. Enough of the doomsday scenario stuff.

She walked around a bit, just to loosen tension tightened muscles and try to clear her head. Finally spotting some vending machines, she valiantly did battle with the coffee machine but had to give it up when it ate her money twice. Elizabeth settled for soda, buying one for her and one for Neal.

_**WC WC **_

The doctors arrived in the morning and ran more tests. After much medical hemming and hawing, they decided things were no better but no worse. Of more importance to Elizabeth and Neal, Peter still did not respond to any stimuli. Diana and Jones stopped by before work, Diana looking very upset. Neal did not let on he knew from the night nurse Diana had called at least three times. Jones still maintained that Peter would be back; he was just taking a well earned rest.

After they left, Reese Hughes showed up. Taking Elizabeth aside, they talked over many things from the mundane (insurance) to ascertaining if Elizabeth needed anything. Hughes gave Neal a look when he saw the young man still in last night's clothes. "Go home, Caffrey. At least take a shower and change. You don't need to come into the office today. Stay here with Mrs. Burke. And if anything changes at all, you call me. Immediately."

"Yes, sir."

Hughes went back to talking with Elizabeth and Neal stepped away and dialed his cell phone.

"Did you know one of the Suit's neighbors is NYFD? I nearly got caught breaking in last night!"

"Boy, you are losing your touch, Mozz. Here I give you a simple job and you almost blow it," Neal replied mildly.

"Not so simple," Mozzie snorted. "Did you know the Suit had upgraded the locks? Was it to keep us out, I wonder?"

"No, I think it was to keep Fowler and his buddies out. Or at least make it harder for them. Look, Mozz, I'm coming home for a bit. I'll pick up Satchmo and bring him to June's. Can you give me a hand here?"

"Dog sitting is not my thing. I hope Suit Dog and Bugsy get along."

Neal sighed. "Right now, that is not my primary worry, Mozz."

There was a short silence. "The Suit is no better?"

"No. No change but he isn't any worse either. The doctors are still waiting."

"You know, Neal," Mozzie's voice warmed to his subject, "I did some research. Did you people in comas sometimes respond to music?"

Exhausted and worried, Neal was not in the mood. "Look, Mozz, I don't think I'm going to sing to him here in the hospital! People might talk."

"Well, fine. You worry about your image then. But you just told me last week you two had some rousing duets with the car radio on that stakeout. I'm just saying that-"

Neal held up his hand even though Mozzie couldn't see it. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. I'll see you shortly."

_**WC WC **_

Neal returned in a couple of hours. Elizabeth was still there but she had company. Yolanda had arrived back from Philadelphia with expressions of good wishes and good luck by museum board. They stood out in the hallway.

"Neal, have you met Yolanda?" Even exhausted, Elizabeth was still gracious. Clearly her mind was on her husband however and she kept glancing back to the closed door.

Yolanda and Neal exchanged greetings and the young woman excused herself to go home. She was upset and blinking back tears as she left.

"What's going on?" Neal asked.

"Nothing. There's been no change," Elizabeth said sadly. "I think it was easier for Yolanda to talk out here."

Neal touched her arm, concern on his face. "Elizabeth, you need a break. If you don't want to go all the way home, go over to June's. I just talked to her and she knows what happened. She'll take good care of you and I'll stay here."

Elizabeth patted his chest gently, smiling through tears. "I can't leave, not just yet, Neal. Not until I know."

"Then I'll get us a late lunch," Neal said. "Be right back."

Neal brought back a cafeteria lunch which was actually better than either of them expected. Afternoon wore on into evening and Jones, Diana and Hughes were all back again. They stayed longer this time and each one of them sat with Peter for a time. Neal took Elizabeth for another quick cafeteria dinner while they were there. Finally they all left, fairly late. The night time of the hospital fell with oppressive silence.

_**WC WC**_

For a restless man, Neal could sit quietly when he had to and Elizabeth marveled at his patience while they sat at Peter's bedside. Once they both thought Peter stirred a little but after a close exhaustive watch for more than an hour, they concluded they must have imagined it. But secretly, neither Neal nor Elizabeth gave up hope that they did see something.

Elizabeth finally went for a walk. She was so tired but she could not sleep. One of the nurses graciously offered the use of their lounge. She washed her face and stared at the mirror. If she thought she looked bad before, that was nothing compared to this. El tried to repair the damage by applying some fresh makeup but by tomorrow, she was going to have to go home, at least for a little while.

Returning to ICU however, her heart clenched in dread. The quiet stillness of the floor was shattered, as nurses ran in and out with machines and medicines.

In and out of Peter's room.

Spotting Neal standing there off to the side, Elizabeth hurried over to him. He looked white and shaken. "What happened, Neal?"

"I think… I thought he was waking up. He suddenly started moving but then he was choking. He couldn't breathe with that damn tube down his throat. I pushed the button, and they," he waved an arm toward the room, "rushed in and threw me out. They've been running in and out with stuff ever since." Neal looked stricken. "They won't say anything about what's going on!"

Elizabeth held on to Neal's arm as they waited. A doctor, very young by the look of him, rushed in but all they could see was a cluster of people around Peter's bed.

Neal and Elizabeth continued to stand there against the wall, waiting and hoping. Finally the activity level went down in the room. Some of the nurses came out and smiled at the two forlorn figures. "The Doctor will be out soon," one of the spoke as she went by, wheeling some piece of equipment in front of her.

Finally the Doctor came out; a different one than before. His name badge said Apogee. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting. Are you Mrs. Burke?"

"Yes. This is my husband's partner at the FBI, Neal Caffrey. Please tell me how he is?" Elizabeth's voice shook a little as she asked.

"I think he's going to be all right," Dr. Apogee replied. "He was having some problems with the ventilator when he woke up. It's not unheard of; having tubing stuck down your throat causes several people acute discomfort. He is awake now and from what I can observe, fairly coherent. He's asking for his wife."

Elizabeth glanced at Neal, hope shining in her eyes. "Go, go," Neal urged.

_**Again, thank you for the reviews and all the story alerts. **_

_**Also, special thanks to rindy713, who first encouraged me to try posting fanfic and has been incredibly supportive.**_


	4. Chapter 4

Elizabeth nearly ran into the room. Peter was lying there, this time with oxygen tubing in his nose. His eyes were closed but they fluttered open when Elizabeth touched his arm.

"Hey. Welcome back," Elizabeth tried to keep her voice steady. She knew how upset Peter got dealing with crying women.

Peter smiled slightly and sighed. He made a vague motion to his throat.

"Sore?" Elizabeth guessed. He reached over and clasped her hand. Elizabeth felt tears sting her eyes. Naturally Peter saw it and drew her close. They embraced for a long time, saying nothing.

The nurse came in with some water and some ice chips. She smiled at them. "It's good to see you awake, Agent Burke. Oh, and that young man is still loitering around in the hallway," she added to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth's hand flew to her mouth. "It's Neal. He's still here, honey. He only left for a while to get Satchmo. Other than that, he's been here the whole time."

Peter's eyes were questioning and he asked in a raspy voice, "Time?"

Elizabeth glanced at her watch. "After four am. And its Thursday now." She turned to the nurse. "Could Neal please come in for just minute? He's been here all night."

The nurse hesitated. "There's only supposed to be one visitor at a time but I guess I could make an exception. He chatted up my supervisor earlier to be allowed to stay this long!"

Elizabeth smiled and Peter came close to rolling his eyes. The nurse went out and Neal came in instantly. "Hey, buddy," he said in a strained voice.

"His throat is too sore for much talking," Elizabeth explained.

Peter however, simply held out his hand. Neal took it solemnly. "God, its good to see you awake, Peter."

Peter was getting very tired; he suspected the IV had something to do with it. His eyes began closing despite his wishes but he did manage a hoarse, "Glad you're here."

Neal and Elizabeth exchanged looks of heartfelt relief. "This has been the longest two nights of my life," Elizabeth said weakly. "God, I can't believe I almost forgot Satchmo."

Neal placed a hand on her arm. "Don't worry. I already had a man on it."

"Mozzie?"

"Yes, but I don't think we should discuss it here. Peter might jump out of that bed if he knew Mozzie broke into your house."

Elizabeth smiled. She was exhausted but giddy with relief. "Yes, he probably would."

The nurse came back in and checked Peter. "He should sleep now for a while. The Doctor wants to do another scan on him in a few hours; make sure that bump on the head keeps going down. You two should probably get some rest as well."

"Good idea," Neal replied. "How about a predawn cup of coffee, Mrs. Burke?"

"Wonderful idea, Mr. Caffrey." Elizabeth paused to kiss her husband. "I'll be back later, honey. Don't do anything I wouldn't approve of."

During Elizabeth's goodbye to her husband, Neal had moved by the door and pulled out his cell phone. When Elizabeth got near, she heard him say, "Diana? I thought you might be awake. You were right; Peter woke up. You were just one day off ."

_**WC WC WC **_

The following day Elizabeth arrived right after noon, after finally collecting her dog and going home for a while. Peter was awake, off the oxygen but looking none too happy. "Well, you must be feeling better; you're got your game face on," she teased.

Peter managed a smile but it was fleeting. "I'm really getting tired of being scanned, poked and talked about in the third person. Why do doctors have to do things by committee now days? They must have run in five today alone. And how the hell long does 'observation' last anyway?"

Elizabeth stopped the grumbling with a kiss. When they both came up for air, she cupped her hands around his face. "I'm just grateful you're here to complain."

Peter considered. "I guess there is something to that." He tried to see in her purse. "Did you bring me anything?"

Elizabeth grinned and brought out a wrapped sandwich. "Its not deviled ham, its ham salad. I knew if I didn't bring you some food, you'd be complaining about the hospital food again."

"Well, they have mastered the art of Jell-O; I'll give them that." Peter watched as she sat down in a chair, Burke Premier Events papers sticking up out of her bag. "Get everything done?"

"Yes, I think so." Elizabeth paused. "I think I'm going to let Yolanda start doing more on the smaller events."

Peter, munching on his sandwich, replied, "If that's what you want. Is she ready for it?"

Elizabeth sat, watching her husband eat, stilling the urge to remind him to slow down. Peter was definitely getting better all right. "I think she is. Time to find out at any rate. Sometimes I think Burke Premier Events is getting too big for me. Maybe I should step back a little."

Peter looked thunderstruck. "El, you love your job!"

"I do. But I'm getting uneasy about how much time it's taken away from you. We already have one hard taskmaster in the FBI to cope with. Two is probably too much." She paused and asked the question that had troubled her since the call from Hughes that night. "Peter, why didn't you want Neal to call me when you were hurt?"

Her husband looked startled. "What?"

"You don't remember?" Elizabeth was going to believe Neal Caffrey was a bad influence if Peter Burke suddenly turned evasive. It wasn't his style, especially with her.

But no, Peter really didn't remember, as he was frowning in concentration. "Is that what this is all about?" he asked mildly.

"Do you remember saying it?" Elizabeth persisted.

"Yeah, now I do. Sort of. I just didn't want to ruin your big night, El. You'd worked hard on it for a solid month."

"You getting killed would have spoiled it, dear. Big time."

Peter reached for her hand and instantly she gave it. "El, I don't want you to give up your career because of one freak accident. I know you like what you're doing. If there is ever a time, you don't, then quit. We can make it just fine on my salary alone, especially as much as we've already paid on the house. But don't throw your job away unless you really want to." He swallowed. "All I could think of that night was you. I didn't want to wreck it. But there was nothing else, I swear it."

Elizabeth smiled wistfully. "Sometimes it does bother me that we never see each other anymore. Maybe on weekends, if I don't have an event and you don't get called into work. Then, when something like this happens, I wonder if I'm wasting the time I should have with you. Instead I'm worrying about centerpieces and flowers and caterers."

Peter gave her hand a squeeze. "But you like doing this, don't you? You're the boss of your own company and you're doing what you've always wanted to do. We will make the time, El. I should be doing a better job of that myself." He shrugged. "Hell, I've got Neal around now. I should let him go run the FBI."

Elizabeth laughed. "Would the Bureau survive?"

Peter grimaced. "I doubt it."

Elizabeth stood up and kissed her husband on the lips. "All right; Burke Premier Events will keep chugging along. But you have to promise me that you'll never again tell Neal to wait until he calls me. Whatever happens, good or bad, I want to know right away. Promise?"

Peter's eyes twinkled. "Do I get another kiss to seal the deal?"

Elizabeth smiled; her eyes suddenly smoky. "You better believe it, Agent Burke."

The kiss went on longer than either of them intended, until a grinning nurse came in and interrupted them. Watching while Peter bantered with the nurse, trying to get out of yet another test, Elizabeth came to a decision. Burke Premier Events was going to stay in New York for a while. Those promising offers from Boston and Albany could wait.

_**WC WC WC**_

Elizabeth and Neal came to pick him up two days later and frankly, Peter was damn glad to be leaving the hospital. He hated them on general principle anyway and he always felt that being in a hospital aggravated your condition, not helped. Also, he had too much time to think while lying there. To have such a close call over a fall in an alleyway was too weird. Too scary as well, although he hated to admit that. He loved his wife and his life and he wasn't ready to leave it behind just yet. Peter wanted to get out of the hospital and back to real life, as soon as possible.

They transferred him to the Taurus; Peter in the back seat with his leg stretched out and Neal in the front, Elizabeth driving. It was an uneventful ride home, until Neal and Peter spotted some mutual acquaintance whom both disliked immensely. This led to speculation over what he was doing there on that corner. Neal opined he was probably casing the jewelry store. Peter thought he was looking for escape routes from the money exchange down the block. After that, Elizabeth bit her lip to keep from laughing as they indulged in zinging each other and tossing some pointed barbs. In other words, the male equivalent of endearments.

It was long ride home however; traffic was heavy. By the time they made it, Peter was very quiet in the back seat and Neal was fidgety.

They made it to the house without incident though. Peter sat down heavily on the couch and hoped neither his wife nor his friend noticed the fine sheen of sweat on his forehead. He had a dull pounding headache, nothing like before but his leg ached too.

Satchmo greeted them like the long lost family they were and sat down beside Peter, not moving even when Elizabeth went into the kitchen.

"You OK?" Neal asked quietly.

Peter looked up. "Yeah, I am now."

Elizabeth bustled back out. "Look, I need to run to the grocery store. Neal, can you stay for lunch?"

"Of course," Neal replied.

Neal and Elizabeth compared notes on what needed doing.

Peter just sat back and let it all roll around him, rubbing Satchmo's head. God, he was tired but it was so good to be home.

Finally Elizabeth went on her way, but not before a number of admonishments for both Neal and Peter and what they should or should not do.

After the door closed behind her, Neal whistled. "Wow, Elizabeth usually isn't this demanding."

Behind closed eyes, Peter replied, "The word is bossy."

Neal grinned. "You said it, not me."

Peter sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Actually, I think the word is worried."

Neal sobered immediately. "Yes, that is the word all right. You scared everyone, Peter," in a slightly accusing tone.

Peter shot him an annoyed look. "I didn't intend to."

"Well, just FYI, Mozzie has been researching everything he can find on people who have been in comas. He's really been quite fascinated with it."

"How nice," Peter observed dryly. "Always great to have a hobby."

"Don't be surprised if he asks you about it."

"You mean, did I hear anyone when I was out?"

Neal froze. "Did you?"

"I heard your voice," Peter admitted. "Too far away though; I couldn't make out what you were saying."

Peter almost laughed when he saw the relief rolling off Neal in waves but he held his amusement inside. "Oh. I might have said something; I don't remember," Neal added vaguely.

Satchmo chose the moment to jump on the couch and lie down beside Peter, laying his head on Peter's good leg. Peter sighed, petting his dog. Not looking at Neal, he said, "I did know you were there, Neal. Both in the alley and in the hospital." Looking up, he added, "I still don't know why that doped up punk didn't blow both of us away."

Neal sat quietly. "Do you suppose it's a random element of luck involved?"

Peter smiled. "Let Mozzie do a study of that instead."

Neal waited until Peter's eyes stayed closed and then he got up and went to the kitchen to get ready for Elizabeth's return. He wasn't going to stay long after lunch; both Peter and Elizabeth were exhausted and Neal longed for a good night's rest in his own bed tonight. He had tossed and turned all of last night. Neal could relax now that Peter was home with Elizabeth and all was well, or would be, again. Simple things were so important especially when they suddenly weren't there anymore. _Take nothing for granted_. This had been Neal's maxim on jobs for some time now. It was going to have to be true on this side of the law as well.

But he did wonder just how much Peter had heard during his hospital stay.

_**Thanks for reading, everyone.**_


End file.
